A Story of The Shoeshine

Dawn came with a dreary gray, ominous without a sign of warning. Until the clouds gradually cracked into a half, exposing the radiant of the sun light, he still did not care.

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HE IS COMING

Again, I felt the same pulse.

It thumped me on the chest harder than ever, as if a swarm of timpanists were clashing the drums and fighting between themselves. I still ignored it until the ordinary beat became a frenetic, perpetual rhythm.

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Life Line

Throughout the sun, I was only able to see the cloud. They huddled together like a flock of woolly sheep, wavy but fluffy as marshmallows. Last night, I discovered the same cloud. They were unfolding like the muddy lake’s surface, with no ripples as if it were about to engulf anyone who crossed it. And the woman to my right did the same thing.

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The Three Colors

I SMELL A POWERFUL, AN UNPLEASANT REEK, which disoriented my senses and jolted me awake from my slumber. Each one expropriates my mind: obscurity, confusion, oddity. I tell my legs to shift so I can bear the pain.

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Fourmilière

Grey, white, or a similar color with dark paint as concrete; permanent building constructions—high and plush-up to the sky; four-and-two-wheeled machines lined up on the road; pollution and cigar smoke jumbled together to spike each heart; and no green, no trees.

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